ALABAMA CALLED HIS name. Five weeks had passed since leaving Kaylan, and Nick missed her more than ever. He groaned as he rolled in bed. Every muscle hurt. He had taken hard hits before, but that explosion had severely bruised his back. He was back home in Coronado on medical leave until the doctor released him. It would be a week, maybe more, all while his team planned and trained harder than ever.
They’d walked into a setup. He should have seen it from the beginning. Janus had killed the head of the terrorist group, and no one had so much as blinked. It was an execution of the worst kind: kill the leader to make way for another brutal, yet easily manipulated man, and take out those tracking her at the same time. They never expected IEDs to be buried around the bungalow. That lack of awareness spelled danger for his team. He was angry, boiling even. As much as he missed Kaylan, he wanted to hop the next plane to Russia and find the shrew.
“Are you still wallowing?” Micah leaned against the doorframe, grimy from a day of training.
“Nursing my enormous ego and bad temper. I’m just a little banged up.”
“So, you aren’t currently pining away for a certain auburn-haired beauty in need of Prince Charming, however incapacitated he may be?”
Nick threw his pillow at Micah.
“Man, why don’t you go see her? You won’t be back at work for at least a week. They won’t even let you come into the office. Get out of here.”
The idea was appealing, but he didn’t want Kaylan to see him like this. “It can wait until I’m fully back on my feet.”
“What’s the problem? More male ego?”
Nick met Micah’s eyes. “She just watched her best friend die and patched up half a city. She doesn’t need to see me and worry.”
“Don’t you think that Kaylan is tough enough to handle it? If y’all are going to label this as a relationship, you better learn real quick that your problems are her problems, just as you’ve already adopted hers. Don’t handle this alone.”
“I can’t tell her anything, man. Keeping secrets has never been so difficult.”
“You tell her the truth. You’re a little banged-up but on the mend. A few days, and you’ll be as good as new.” Micah grinned, and Nick wondered what was coming next. “And you tell her that nothing gets a guy back on his feet more than the loving ministrations of the girl he adores. Tell her that, and you’re gold. She’ll forget you’re hurt.”
Nick’s grin now matched Micah’s. “It’s that easy, huh?”
“Well, you know, I have a world of experience in this area.”
“Right. When I get back, we’ve got to find you a girl.”
The dance studio hummed with the laughter of little girls and the memory of two best friends. Kaylan had applied to teach dance lessons until she left for her internship, assuming she was officially accepted. She had interviewed over Skype the week before with the San Diego Dietetics Program, and the head of the department informed her that she would most likely be accepted to the program. For now, though, she was back at her old summer job, doing something that reminded her of Sarah Beth every day. Her heart was still raw, and she still wasn’t sure how to heal.
Little girls in tap shoes and tutus had filled her time with endless hours of distraction, but the studio was silent now. Kaylan held the keys to lock up. She drifted toward the small auditorium. She had performed her first ballet here, played Belle in Beauty and the Beast, and practiced with Sarah Beth. The empty stage mirrored her loneliness, the hole created when the star of the show leaves the spotlights after a breathtaking performance.
She hadn’t danced since the night of Pap’s stroke. Pop music had blared through the practice room, and she and Sarah Beth had twirled in perfect rhythm, the picture of two girls now women who had lived a lifetime together. Neither one of them knew that lifetime was coming to an end.
As she hit play on the sound board, Michael Bublé burst into song on the speakers in the auditorium. She slowly walked to the stage, dragging her fingers along the seats as she went. She didn’t know if she had anything left to give, anything worthy of the well-worn platform. She climbed the steps, hesitating before placing her foot on the polished wood panels. They were familiar friends.
The strains wafted across the room, and Kaylan could almost see the orchestra as she heard the rich plucking of strings and the wailing of the saxophone. Notes drifted across the room, as if floating on a gentle breeze. Kaylan stood center stage, swaying, eyes closed. She could do this. It was another step back, another way to remember Sarah Beth and never let go. She couldn’t forget, wouldn’t forget. One more way to heal.
“You jump here, and I’ll spin across stage here, and on eight we’ll meet back in center stage for the finale. Ready, Kayles?”
“You sure this will work?”
“Are you doubting our awesome skills? We are going to nail this recital. Best one yet.”
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“Five, six, seven, eight.”
Kaylan leaped, calling on all her years of dance. She imagined herself as a gazelle, gracefully leaping over the African Serengeti. She landed on her feet and met Sarah Beth in center stage as the last strains of the song faded into silence.
“We nailed it. I told you, Kayles.”
They sprawled out on the floor, sweaty and proud. “Bubbles, how do you do it? How do you know everything is going to turn out okay all the time?”
“I don’t.”
“Sure you do. You are the most optimistic person I know. You don’t have that nickname just because of the bubbles incident in kindergarten. You embrace life. How do you do it?”
Sarah Beth pushed up on her elbows, and Kaylan met eyes that sparkled. “I guess because I’ve learned to let go. You want to fix everything, Kayles, make it perfect. I know I can’t. No fear, no expectations. I just live life to the fullest. You bury what happens to you. I know God is big enough to take care of it for me. I trust Him.”
“So do I.”
“Don’t get defensive, Kayles. I know you do. I’m just trying to explain. I’ve learned that even shade is an indication of sunshine, and darkness is pierced by the reflection of daylight in the moon. God is good, Kayles. If I were to lose everything tomorrow, that sun is still present, just dimmer. I let go and let God be who He is. There is such freedom and joy in it.”
The memory swirled to a sickening stop as Kaylan sank to the stage. Tears stung her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. “It’s not that easy. It’s not. Letting go of you means forgetting. I can’t do it.”
Cracks broke through her fragile armor. “God, I can’t do this. Why did You take her? She trusted You. Loved You. Helped people. She was the best of us. Why not me?”
She ran her hands over the scuff marks on the floor. That’s how she felt, scuffed up, less than perfect, a mockery of who she used to be. From a distance she looked like the stage, glowing, polished, pristine, but up close she was a marred image of what she had been.
“Do You hear me, God? Did You hear me in Haiti? Do You still care? How do I do this?”
“Remember when we first met. You’re my best friend. You always will be. Don’t cry. Don’t be mad, Kayles. Don’t be mad. I’m going to see Jesus. He’ll dance and laugh with me.” Her chest shook, and Kaylan strained to hear. “He’s life, Kayles. Even in this. Don’t be mad.”
Sarah Beth’s last moments mingled with the mellow music. God was life. He was still good, even in this. Sarah Beth now danced with Jesus, whole, healthy, and as bubbly as ever.
“Nothing makes me happier than helping people, Kayles. If I die doing this, life will end perfectly.” Sarah Beth’s words after a day working with the kids in Haiti rang through her mind. If her friend could be content with circumstances, not blaming God in her death, how could Kaylan do any less? But it was much easier said than done.
She wrestled with the words. They bubbled from her heart, and she fought them back. The battle raged. The snake reared its head, but this time she denied it. She was tired of its venom. It was eating her alive.
With a cry, words spilled from her mouth: “I can’t be mad at You anymore, Lord. I still don’t understand how You’re good in this. Sarah Beth could have done much more good, more than I ever can. I don’t see any hope. I’m angry, and hurt, but I can’t fix it. Sarah Beth knew how to let You heal. I can help bodies, but You heal what is broken. Jesus, I need help. Show me the way back. Show me how to trust. Show me the good in this.” Her voice cracked, and the plea came from the bottom of her heart. She wasn’t sure God would answer, but if He heard her, she needed this most of all. “Give me new hope.”
A hand touched her shoulder, and Kaylan jerked backward.
“Hey, babe.”